A point of time, a moment's space, O God, mine inmost soul convert, Give me to feel their solemn weight, Before me place in dread array To judge the nations at thy bar; Be this my one great business here, Then, Saviour, then my soul receive, WESLEY. OUR REST. "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”— Rom. viii. 18. My feet are worn and weary with the march Thy pastures green, where peaceful waters glide. My hands are weary, toiling on, Day after day, for perishable meat; My garments, travel-worn and stained with dust, My eyes are weary looking at the sin, Impiety, and scorn upon the earth; O city of our God! within thy walls All—all are clothed again with thy new birth. My heart is weary of its own deep sin, When shall my soul thy glorious presence feel, Patience, poor Love thou the path of sorrow that he trod; Thy glorious walls, home of the loved and blest. I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS. Job vii. 16. EARTH is the spirit's rayless cell; But then, as a bird soars home to the shade Of the beautiful wood, where its nest was made, In bonds no more to dwell; So will its weary wing Be spread for the skies, when its toil is done; O, not more sweet the tears Of the dewy eve on the violet shed, Nor dearer amid the foam Of the far-off sea, and its stormy roar, Is a breath of balm from the unseen shore, To him that weeps for home. Wings, like a dove, to fly ! The spirit is faint with its feverish strife ;O for its home in the upper life! When, when will death draw nigh? VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS. "Brought life and immortality to light."-2 Tim. i. 10. NIGHT turns to day : When sullen darkness lowers, And heaven and earth are hid from sight, Cheer up, cheer up! Ere long the opening flowers, With dewy eyes, shall shine in light. Storms die in calms: When over land and ocean Roll the loud chariots of the wind, Winter wakes spring: When icy blasts are blowing O'er frozen lakes, through naked trees, All beautiful and glowing, May floats in fragrance on the breeze. War ends in peace : Though dread artillery rattle, And ghastly corpses load the ground, Where groaned the field of battle, Toil brings repose: With noontide fervors beating, When droop thy temples o'er thy breast, Cheer up, cheer up! Gray twilight, cool and fleeting, Wafts on its wing the hour of rest. Death springs to life: Though brief and sad thy story, Look up, look up! Eternity and glory Dawn through the portals of the tomb. MONTGOMERY. |